


Love on the Line

by ProseApothecary



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-10
Updated: 2018-10-10
Packaged: 2019-07-29 00:12:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16252664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ProseApothecary/pseuds/ProseApothecary
Summary: Patrick gets to stay in a plush hotel on a business trip and follows the old mantra: when life gives you lemons, make your boyfriend jealous of all the lemonade you have.





	Love on the Line

“Look!” says Patrick, standing next to the tub, angling the laptop down so David can see, “It has jets!”

David looks pained. “It’s been 2 years since I set foot in a hot tub.”

“ _And_ the water’s always the right temperature.”

David spies a row of bottles neatly laid out on the corner of the tub. “Are those Korean skincare products?”

“Probably. Trial and error has taught me that none of them are soap.”

 “Oh my God, Patrick. You can’t even appreciate all the amenities. It’s like taking a five-year-old to Disneyland.”

“Trust me, business conferences are a lot less fun. And, just to be clear, how old _should_ you be to go to Disneyland?”

“25. No point giving kids all those memories while their brains are still little sieves.”

“Uh-huh. And this theory would have nothing to do with the fact that when five-year-old David went to Disneyland, he was terrified of a man in a Goofy costume?”

The Skype connection may be fuzzy, but Patrick could recognise a David glare from 500 yards in a snowstorm.

“…You know Stevie is not a reliable source of information.”

“It was Moira, actually, but nice try.”

“Ugh. Fine, I didn’t want a hug from a sweaty, oversized dog. It’s not my fault I developed good taste at a young age.”

“Too bad,” says Patrick, picking up the plastic bottles from the tub, “I was thinking of bring these home. But my boyfriend, a man of taste, obviously wouldn’t appreciate getting pilfered hotel supplies-“

“Take the products. Please. I can’t keep using store samples forever.”

“Ok,” says Patrick with a soft smile.

 

He heads back into the bedroom, throwing the products in his bag and sitting on the bed, laptop on top of his crossed legs.

“That hot tub is going on the bucket list,” says David, “for when Rose Apothecary makes us both tycoons and I can buy nice things again.”

 “Deal. As long as we have a foosball table as well.”

“ _Absolutely_ not. How is that going to look next to the Gaugins?”

“How big are the Gaugins? Because we also need to fit in a jersey display case. Maybe put some crates next to it so people can sit down and admire it.”

David fixes him with a sceptical look. They’ve been spending more and more time together, and the only downside is that it’s getting increasingly difficult to mess with David.

“Ok, so you can stay in the gymnasium of an underfunded school while I stay in our lavish, jersey-free mansion.”

Patrick thinks he’s dangerously inclined to agree with anything while David is talking about _their_ house like it’s a given.

“I’d miss you,” he says. “I miss you now, and it’s only been 2 days.”

“I miss you too. I-“

 

David’s cut off by a muffled voice. “Are you two decent?”

“Oh my God,” says David, “yes.”

There’s the sound of a door opening. “That wasn’t an invitation to come in,” says David irritably.

 Alexis’ voice rings out. “Da _vid_ , you’ve been in here for like, an hour. I can’t keep sitting at the foot of our parents’ bed like some child of the 1950s. Dad keeps pitching these paragraph-long hashtags for the Rosebud Motel Twitter. It’s driving me insane.”

Patrick finds the necessity of getting an apartment of their own is becoming clearer by the second.

“Ugh. _Fine_.” David looks back to the screen, and his voice softens. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow. Goodnight, Patrick.”

 “Goodnight Patrick!” says Alexis chirpily.

“Night Alexis. Goodnight David.” He cuts himself off from what he wants to say, what they usually say when they’re apart. They haven’t said it in front of anyone else yet, and he doesn’t want to push.

 

They hang up, and he lies back in bed, staring at the ceiling, feeling the weight of things unsaid. It’s funny, it’s only been a few months since they started saying it, and now Patrick can’t go without it.

His phone dings. He opens his messages, and the 3 words are there. Followed by a string of emojis which, he can only assume, represent Alexis falling off a cliff.

_Love you too,_ he types back, and the weight lifts.


End file.
